


bonnie & clyde

by smolstiel



Series: Wincest Drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, Dark Dean Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Darkchesters, Implied Necrophilia, Implied Voyeurism, Implied/Referenced Torture, It's Dark Folks, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder, Serial Killers, Sort Of, This Isn't a Nice Fic, Violence, and fun but let's not get ahead of ourselves here, murderchesters, people die, scroll onward, take care of yourselves if that's a Not Good, that isn't a tag? Disappointing, there are guns and murder in case you didn't get that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 16:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14500746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolstiel/pseuds/smolstiel
Summary: “Winchester, if you don’t want to be pumped full of lead, fuckingstand down.This is your final warning.” The psychopath deserved to die. Henriksen hoped he got his chance to shoot.Crossposted from Tumblr.





	bonnie & clyde

**Author's Note:**

> I am absolutely positively sure someone has used that title before, but the only thing I could think of was the fact that I was listening to Partners and Crime by Set It Off when I wrote this and how atrocious the lyrics would be for a title, so you get a similarly lame ass one.

The younger Winchester, Sam, was only a kid. Just a goddamn kid, big hazel doe eyes, scared out of his head. Agent Henriksen had come too far to let that kid out of his sight again, let him galavant off with — Dean. The monster of a big brother.

“Man, oh man,” the elder Winchester was laughing, twin guns swinging carelessly across the line of officers facing him down. “You really think you got us pinned down, doncha?” The green eyes were unnaturally bright, or maybe that was just the blood spattered across his face and clothes bringing them out. The man was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, staring past every weapon pointed his way in favor of leering over their heads toward Sam. Innocent, young Sam, who looked as though he’d do anything to get as far away from Dean as possible. “You think I’m gonna let my baby brother go, just like that?”

Henriksen forced his voice to come out steady. “Winchester, if you don’t want to be pumped full of lead, fucking _stand down._ This is your final warning.” He knew what this man had done. Kidnapped his brother, killed the girl Sam had been living with, and set his apartment on fire to make sure the once-successful Stanford student had nothing to go back to. Then, dragging him across the country on a year-long killing spree. The psychopath deserved to die. Henriksen hoped he got his chance to shoot.

Dean threw back his head and laughed. Maniacal laughter, echoing around the old warehouse that stank of blood and sex. “God, you fucking think there’s a backstory or some shit. Think we’re Bonnie and Clyde, huh?” The men shifted uneasily. Winchester had that effect on people. “What, just ‘cause I’m fucking my brother the success story, means the party’s gotta end? Or is it the whole necrophilia thing?”

Henriksen felt bile burning in the back of his throat. He’d wondered, finding bodies that seemed to have been cut open purely as fuckholes, gory images burnt into the back of his eyelids, but hearing it so easily admitted made his stomach roil.

“Fuck,” Dean shook his head, “you got us ass backwards. See, I’m crazy, sure, but I ain’t into the kinky shit.” He never took his expectant gaze off his brother, smirking at him in a private joke.

The thought was laughable. Sam Winchester was an innocent in all this. Following his monster of a big brother like a lost puppy, a case of Stockholm Syndrome. He glanced over his shoulder, wanting to give the boy a reassurance.

But Sam wasn’t looking at Henriksen. He was staring right back at Dean. The cold smirk chilled him to the bone. And then his face contorted, and he stabbed the man attending him in the stomach. The sound of the knife being twisted, hard, was loud enough to hear from across the room.

Henriksen fumbled out a sharp command, trying to cover both men at once, but Dean had already opened fire, three, four, five of his people down like dominos. Farrow, Black, Gonzales. He shot one bullet after the other, each and every one ignored. Sam slapped the gun out of Autley’s hands. “No!” she shrieked in terror, right before a knife protruded from her throat. A horrible gurgling sound issued as the light died from her eyes, and then she collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Henriksen aimed carefully. One bullet. Dean, or Sam? Which one was the true source of the corruption? Which one was more dangerous?

“You should probably put that gun down,” Sam said, the strangely alluring voice slithering like ice up his spine. He moved almost leisurely, stepping over bodies toward Henriksen. “Even if you get off a good shot, you’ll be ripped to shreds in the aftermath.” He smiled sweetly. “Dean’s overprotective, and I’m liable to hold a bit of a grudge.”

Henriksen wavered. One bullet. Two men. He took aim.

A shot rang out before he could ever fire. He looked down to find a perfect round spot of blood dead center of his chest. His fingers didn’t respond. His eyes found smoke from one of Dean’s guns. Oh, he realized dazedly, not really feeling the impact. He wasn’t afraid of death. But he wasn’t so sure about what was going to come before.

Dean smirked, kneeling over the fallen body with easy confidence. “Told ya he’s the kinky one,” he said cheerfully.

Henriksen knew the shadow looming just out of eyeshot, behind his head, had to be Sam. He heard fabric rustle, and then a gleeful slash of a grin came into his vision. Then, gut-wrenching pain, and the sound of something wet. He couldn’t hear the moan over his own scream.

“Me? Well,” Dean leaned in, hot breath in his ear. “I like to watch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr. smolstiel, woodsywincest


End file.
